Ghostwriter (Sam Drake x Female Reader)
by rikkisixx
Summary: Sam Drake decides to write his story, but he isn't much of a writer. He's told to hire a Ghostwriter...


"So, what exactly do you do?" Sam asks you, lighting a cigarette. "Oh, can I?" he gestures toward his cigarette.

You nod and he continues. He flicks the lighter twice, shakes it, then flicks once more to get a decent flame. "I mean, I was told I'd need a ghostwriter, but I don't know exactly how this works."

You smile, "Well Mr. Drake, if you choose to hire me, what I do is help you write the story without any of the credit. You'll be the credited author, but I'll take the story you relay to me and make it readable in a novelization. I take care of the flow, the punctuation, the grammar, that sort of thing. You can also just bring me a rough draft if you'd like to type it up yourself and I can fix the errors and, again, format it for a novel."

"Oh yea, okay. That's good because I jump around a lot, anyone who reads it would probably get pretty lost."

You laugh a little, "Yea, it's how we tell stories, we all jump around a bit or we'll miss something and have to say, wait, before this happened, I forgot that THIS happened. That's another benefit, you can jump all over, I can take those pieces and put them back in order."

"Cool, how long does the whole process take? I mean, I'm guessing we're going to spend a lot of time together."

"Well, that depends on you and your story, Mr. Drake. It could be a matter of weeks, could be months. I had one client that was pretty scatterbrained. It took us over a year to get them published."

"Oh shit, a whole year?"

"Yes, but that's atypical."

"I see. Okay, well when do we start?"

You take out your appointment calendar and show him the available dates. You lock in a date and time. Sam gets up to leave.

"Nice to meet you, I look forward to working with you." he says, smirking.

"Likewise, Mr. Drake; I can't wait to hear the story of your adventures."

Sam leaves your office and you go back to your desk. You've had many attractive clients before, that was nothing new, but there was something about Sam that sent your heart aflutter. It crosses your mind for a moment that this could be a conflict of interest, but you quickly laugh it off.

The morning before you go in for your first appointment with Sam, you found yourself being more meticulous than usual with your appearance. You were behaving like a schoolgirl with a crush, and you couldn't help but giggle at the ridiculousness of it. Especially considering you're already IN a relationship. You tell yourself that there's no harm in looking nice; it's not like anything is going to happen anyway, he's a client, and you're in a relationship. It's all harmless.

'He's just nice to look at. Yeah. That's all.' You nod at yourself in the mirror and head out for work.

Sam arrives a few minutes late wearing very tight jeans and a black V-neck shirt. He appears nervous and asks again if he may smoke. You nod in approval and set an ashtray back on the table for him.

Your office is quite spacious with a large picture window overlooking downtown on one wall. You have the nice black pleather couch and coffee table in the middle for your clients. You have your supply closet which resembles more of a wardrobe than a proper closet. Then of course there's your desk, beautiful dark wood covered in computer equipment and papers. You gesture for him to have a seat on the couch as you bring your desk chair around to the other side of the coffee table.

"So, Mr. Drake… As we go along I may hold up my hand to stop you. This is only to have you repeat something I may have misunderstood, or to have you spell a name, or location for reference. I am going to record you but I'm also going to be taking notes, so don't feel as though you have to speak slow enough for me to write or type, because that's what the recorder is for."

Sam nods along as you speak; he's become more visibly nervous at this point.

"You can relax, Mr. Drake. There's no judgment here, just a place to tell your story."

"Sam," He says.

"Sorry?"

"Please. Call me Sam."

You flash him a grin,. "Of course. Shall we begin, Sam?"

He nods again and takes a long drag from his cigarette before starting to speak of his childhood. He smiles wistfully when describing his mother, grimaces slightly when talking about his father, but his best expressions begin we he starts talking about the birth of his baby brother. He gestures wildly while going on about what it was like finding out he wouldn't be an only child anymore and how, at first, he detested the idea. He gets up and starts to walk around, cigarette in hand, talking with his hands as much as his mouth as he details the birth of little Nathan.

Then, the story starts to take a turn, surrounding the illness of his mother. He slows his pace and ends up by the window, looking out over the city. He stops talking, you're making your notes and after a moment you lift your head up…

Sam is still staring out the window, silent, a single tear rolling down his cheek.

"Do you want to take a break?" you ask, gently.

He shakes his head and wipes the tear from his face. He continues on, recalling the death of his mother and him and his brother being abandoned by his father, dumped on the steps of an orphanage. He sits down again and takes a pause.

"I think we have enough for today, Sam."

He raises his head and seems comforted..

"Good first day, though. You've given me a lot to start on."

He looks relieved, "Yeah? Okay, that's good…"

He continues to appear uneasy, the power of reaching into his history has overwhelmed him.

"There's a bar next door. What do you say I pack up for the day and we head over and have a drink?"

"Yeah," he answers, "I think that would be good."

You simper and gather up all your notes, your recorder and your laptop into your messenger bag. You both walk next door to the bar. It's filled with other corporate/office types, but unlike previous clients, Sam doesn't seem to notice or care. You choose a seat at the end of the bar and Sam excuses himself to the restroom. When the bartender comes over, you order two whiskeys, one double. Sam definitely could use the double.

The bartender serves you and you hand him your card, "Keep it open."

Sam returns and you slide the double over to him. He grins at you and holds up the glass. "To our continued partnership."

You hold up your glass to his, "Hear, hear!" you say as you clinked his glass with yours.

You both throw back your whiskeys in a single gulp.

"Alright then, only one rule at the bar," you say, "No work talk!"

He laughs, agrees and lights a cigarette. "Alright, tell me something about you."

You mull it over, trying to think of something interesting but lighthearted. You tell him a funny story from recently and the two of you keep the drinking and talking going for a couple hours.

As you are paying the tab, Sam glances over at you and smirks, "You know, you're like a therapist."

You laugh, "Not really. I mean, the storytelling process can be incredibly therapeutic, that's for sure, but I don't have any sage life advice to give, I just ask: 'and how do you spell that name?' and record the rest."

"Fair enough," he smiles, grabbing his jacket.

You get outside and turn to walk to your car. "See you tomorrow, Sam," you wave as you head out. He waves back as he walks the other direction. You make your way home where your significant other, Riley, is waiting in the driveway.

"Hey, babe!" You say, as you park the car. They glare at you disapprovingly.

"I've been waiting here for an hour."

"Well, I had a session that ran late and we took a long break. I didn't even know you were coming over tonight, you could have texted or called."

They grumble and exit the car. You roll your eyes as you dig for your keys. 'So dramatic,' you think, 'good lorrrrrd.'

You get inside and have dinner together. You both talk about your day, as you do, but you find yourself struck at how different it is talking with them than it was with Sam. Not just because of the obvious, they're totally different people… But how you've been with them so long and sometimes conversations can, even after all this time, feel like a struggle, whereas with Sam it all seemed to flow naturally.

After dinner they stayed over. In the morning, you both get ready for work as usual. You kiss Riley goodbye and head to the office.

You get setup and meet with a couple other clients before Sam calls.

"Hey, I don't think I setup our next date… APPOINTMENT… thing. You know what I mean." he says.

You laugh and open your calendar, "Is tomorrow good? I have an opening in the morning, as well as after lunch."

"Well, don't eat any lunch then. I'll bring something to eat and we can start after."

"Oh, you don't nee-"

"No, no, you bought the drinks, it's the least I can do. I'm not taking no for an answer."

"Alright, see you tomorrow."

You pencil him in after tomorrow's lunch and buzz in your next client.

You work with them for a couple hours, but it wraps up early. You pack up your things and head home.

That night you sleep alone, but your mind is wild with dreams of Sam. You wake up aroused. You've noticed other people while dating before, but none had ever made you feel this way. You feel guilty, though. You're not supposed to think of others like this while in a relationship and it's not as if there was anything inherently wrong with your relationship. While getting ready, you start to wonder if it would be better to have Sam work with another ghostwriter.

By the time you get to work and get your coffee, you've got your mind straight. When lunchtime rolls around, you tell yourself that you don't need to get Sam another writer. Sure, you were a little flustered when you first awoke, but you're fine now. Juuuuuuuuust fine. Sam arrives ten minutes late, his hands full of bags of food.

"I wasn't sure what you liked…" he blurts out.

"Okaaaaay." you say, wide eyed.

"So I got burgers, chicken, salad, and a turkey sandwich."

"Where… did you get all that?"

"I went to a few places."

"Oh my gosh, Sam. Really."

"It's cool, it's cool. I haven't eaten anything today so whatever you don't pick, I'm sure I'll eat between now and dinner."

You shake your head and smile at him… "What's on the burger?" you ask.

After lunch you and Sam get straight back to work. He starts to recall the time spent in the orphanage; how he was constantly in trouble and finally, got himself kicked out. He stops abruptly and you continue scribbling for a moment. When you look up, he's grinning at you.

"What?" you ask.

"You… you got a little…" he walks over and reaches his hand toward your face. With a light stroke of his thumb, he grazes the side of your bottom lip. "... a little ketchup here…"

"Oh!" You quickly put your notes down and run back to your desk.

"I got it, you're fine now!" he chortles.

You pull out your compact anyway and check your face for any more evidence of food. All clear. He's still by the couch, chuckling to himself. You sigh, walk back to your chair and pick your notes back up.

"You were saying?" you ask, in a jokingly annoyed tone.

Sam continues his story until your time for the day is done. He schedules his next meeting after the weekend and you add it to your calendar. You thank him again for the lunch, and he thanks you again for the drinks and then, he says goodbye and leaves. You gather up your notes and head back your desk to start filtering through today's work. Sam suddenly comes back into the office.

"Hey, did you forget something?"

"Not exactly… I uh… I was just wondering if it would be... like… inappropriate to ask you if you wanna go out sometime?"

"Oh... Well, no, I don't think it's inappropriate, but I am actually already in a relationship." you tell him reluctantly.

"Oh right, sure, of course you are, why wouldn't you be... I'm sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry for, really; I'm…. really flattered." you smile reassuringly at him.

"Well…. Until next time." He leaves again and your heart sinks. You know you were doing what was right for everyone involved, but it stung all the while.


End file.
